Even before she awoke, Zoë felt warmer. She was wrapped up in a blanket She breathed in the familiar musty scent. It was HER blanket. But that was impossible. It had been lost along with the rest of her gear in the storm. And yet, there was the undeniable truth that she was wrapped up in it.

She opened her eyes to see liquid yellow eyes staring at her. A cat! Fear born of instinct, kicked in. Generations had passed but the old instincts remained. She squeaked and curled up into an even tighter ball than when she had been sleeping.

“You’re awake!” The voice was young. A kitten then. “You looked so cold before.”

“You found my blanket.” Zoë stated evenly.

“We didn’t know it was yours,” the kitten replied.

“We?” Zoë looked beyond the kitten. A clowder of kittens huddled around behind him. “You’re the missing younglings,“ she observed in the same even tone. She was slowly regaining control over her fear. Funny, she had assumed they would be mice.

“We were playing in the woods and we got lost.” the lead kitten confirmed.

“Everybody gets lost in the Forlorn Forest,” Zoë explained. “That’s why we warn little children not to play here.”

“You’re here!” the kitten countered.

“Looking for you!” Zoë shook her head. It was no good arguing with the kittens. They had no doubt learned their lesson. There was no need to hammer it home. “Thank you for finding my pack.”

“It fell on Trip’s head!” one of the girl kittens giggled.

The lead kitten, Trip no doubt, frowned, “It’s not funny! It really hurt!”

Zoë tuned them out for a moment. “How long did you walk through the forest before you realized you were lost?”

“A few hours,” Trip answered. “We were playing hide and seek.”

“And you’ve been here since?” Zoë asked hopefully. If that were the case they couldn’t be too far from the edge of the forest.

Trip looked a little sheepish, “No. When we realized we were lost, we started running around trying to find our way out again.”

They were only children, Zoë reminded herself. She might have done the same thing at their age. Assuming she had been foolish enough to play in the Forlorn Forest in the first place.

“My friend Popkin flew off for help. He should be back soon.” Not all that soon, she knew, but it would do no good to say so to the kittens.

“You’re a member of the Mouse Wing!” the girl kitten said awestruck. “Momma told me stories about the Mouse Wing!”

“Why did your bird fly away without you?” Trip asked.

“My saddle broke in the crash,” Zoë explained. “I was too hurt to follow him, so I sent him for help.”

“Birds are pretty forgetful,” one of the boy kittens said. “Are you sure he’ll remember the way back?”

Zoë had the same concern, but again, it would only serve to upset the children to admit it. “Popkin isn’t like most birds. He’ll find his way back to us.”

“I’m hungry!” another kitten announced. He was much more rotund than his young friends.

“You’re always hungry, Greggy.”

“Only when I haven’t eaten!” the chubby kitten protested snottily.

Zoë stepped in, “I’m sure we’re all pretty hungry. Where’s my pack? I had some rations in there.”

Greggy looked guilty, “I ate them hours ago.” The other kittens turned and frowned at him.

Zoë shook her head, “That’s alright. Come to think of it, there wouldn’t have been enough for everybody anyway.” She struggled to sit up. The throbbing pain made her feel dizzy. The kittens looked worriedly at her. Be strong, she thought to herself. You need to be strong for them. Quickly she began formulating a plan.